A More Solemn Pickles
by Xaviariam
Summary: I decided to try my hand at writing about a more realistic Pickles! If people like this, I'll do something longer and more detailed. And for some reason, a lot of commas and apostrophes are missing.


**1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.**

**2. Put iTunes or equivalent media player on random.**

**3. For each song that plays, write something related to the theme you picked inspired by the song. You have only the time frame of the song: no planning beforehand: you start when it starts, and no lingering afterward; once the song is over, you stop writing. (No fair skipping songs either; you have to take what comes by chance!)**

**4. Do 5 of these (at least), then post.**

Just decided to do this, I guess. I chose Pickles from Metalocalypse. This is my frist time ever writing about a character I don't own. D:

Someone should shoot the things I like, because I obsess over them waaaaay too much.

My favorites are 2 3 and 5. :3 And I suck because I turned a freakin' hilarious character into a more realistic and serious bum. :I Eh, I guess that's just how I roll. And sorry if the language offends you, but it isn't really Metalocalypse without it.

ALSO I am proud of myself for not feeling the need to slash Pickles. I mean, he'd probably get love from whoever, but the others...?

Come on. :I Not that I hate slash or nothin', because TokiXSkwisgaar is totally possible... :3

* * *

_BLACK SABBATH- INTO THE VOID (1)_

It was one bottle after the other with Pickles. There was no telling when hed stop, or even how long it had been since hed started. However, he was pleasantly wasted, sitting comfortably on his vomit-stained bed. Actually, it had been years since hed been this far gone. Probably not since he had left Snakes n Barrels. And boy, was that a going away party. The light shone brightly into his dilated eyes but he couldnt bring himself to squint or nothin'. "Oh, Gahd," he grunted, feeling the bile rise up into his throat. He hurled over the side of his bed, narrowly missing his leg as the puke splashed onto the floor with a sound that only provoked his sickness. It was a chain reaction. Needless to say, after so many of the green-glass bottles being emptied, and many more minutes spent throwing their contents up, Pickles was exhausted, and thusly fell into a deep but fitful sleep. He woke again to an achingly loud knocking on his door. It was probably Charles, waking him up for some god-awful gig he didnt really want to attend. With a groan, he tossed a pillow at the door and rolled onto his other side. Well whatever. Charles would have to drag him out by his ankles.

_

* * *

__TATAKAU MONO TACHI (PIANO VERSION, ADVENT CHILDREN SOUNDTRACK)- NOBUO UEMATSU (2)_

Everything was a blur. It was one of those frequent moments when the drugs turned out to be really bad, sending Pickles into a whirling maelstrom of confusion and fear. Real, cold fear. He was falling. He thought hed be used to falling from great heights, seeing as being drunk tended to topple people over. But in this case, he was sober, and therefore it was much worse. Was it real? Was he hallucinating? He could hear distant voices, shouting at him, telling him what to do. Even in his freefalling state, he felt a surge of defiance swell up within him, unwilling to do what anyone said. Obeying got you nowhere in life. Disobeying screwed you over. There was only one way to live, and that was living without caring. You couldnt worry about what the drugs did to you, or if that meal would be your last. You had to live like Pickles did, with no one who cared about you. A freggin brutal lifestyle that really took its toll.

_

* * *

__SON ET LUMIERE- THE MARS VOLTA (3)_

Life. He was unsatisfied with it. Sure, he was happy, but he felt like something was missing. He missed the ol Snakes n Barrels days, but hed left for a reason, even if he wasnt sure what it was, exactly. He took a moment to clutch the sides of the toilet seat, just waiting for the previously ingested liquor to come up. Pickles was surrounded by his mistakes. Drugs, beer bottles, you name it. But did he regret any of it? No.

_

* * *

__NEW DISEASE- SPINESHANK (4)_

"Freggin' douchebags!" Pickles was referring to his parents, of course. It wasnt like he cared what they thought about him, hell no. It was just... Seriously!? Theyd choose Seth over him!? His stupid brother was a screw-over. He was nothing special. Nothing at all, compared to Pickles. He was the drummer of the most famous band in the world, Dethklok. Honestly, how could anyone see Seth as anything more than a dicksucking leech? He smashed the empty bottle into the mirror he had been looking at, glass shards flying everywhere. They cut deep into his skin, and some barely missed his eyes. Somehow, the pain helped calm Pickles, but the calm seeped into something else as he sank back. Sorrow.

* * *

_TWISTED TRANSISTOR- KORN (5)_

This was what it all boiled down too. The screaming and cheering, the sheer brutality of it all. People physically harming each other in order to get a better look at the stage. Sometimes blood flew through the air, spattering the band members. Sometimes gunshots went off. This was what Pickles lost himself in. The metal. The music. The beat of the song. Yeah, that was his job, keeping the heartbeat going strong. It felt good, losing himself. It was almost like being high. High off of music, off of his bandmates around him, sweating visibly as they worked their hatred into their masterpiece. Sometimes Pickles didnt even know what he was doing, if he was playing the song they had rehearsed earlier. Sometimes he felt like he was just playing random notes, slamming down onto the wrong things. But Nathan never told him about it, so he guessed he was doing just fine.

* * *

_FLY- SUB DUB MICROMACHINE (6)_

This was a great feeling. Feeling loved, even if it was just a one-time thing, and the girl didnt really care about him. He knew what she wanted. She just wanted to say she had slept with Pickles the drummer, to brag to the rest of the world and gain a higher status among her fellow sluts. But Pickles didnt care. As long as he could pretend, just tell himself that he wasnt completely alone all the time. Then again, he felt like he was contradicting himself when he cried later than night.

* * *

_REVENGE- DANNY ELFMAN (WANTED SOUNDTRACK) (7)_

Honestly, everyone was getting sick of Skwisgaars high-and-mighty attitude. Especially Toki, who was constantly being insulted even though he was probably the only person in the world who could keep up with Skwis playing. Now normally, Pickles would have just shrugged and complained, not actually doing anything about it. But Toki had confronted him about it face-to-face, and he couldnt really say no unless he wanted to risk Toki bawling his eyes out. So the solution was really quite simple. Pickles just put glue all over Skwisgaars guitar. The bastard already carried it around with him wherever he went. Pickles was just sad he wouldnt be around to see him try and got to the bathroom without using his hands.

* * *

_NOTHING ELSE MATTERS- METALLICA (8)_

Pickles didnt usually cry. He was pretty good at being introverted, hiding his emotions. After all, everyone in Dethklok had sworn not to care about each other at all. But he was sure none of them really meant it at least not fully. It wasnt that he was depressed, because he certainly didnt get depressed, either. But looking back on his life, looking at where he was now... He should have been able to call it an accomplishment. He was rich, he was famous, and had kind of friends. He even had all the girls a guy could ever want. And yet, he had fallen so far. For one thing, he really did miss his old hair. A comb over was nothing to be proud about. But hell, he was a household name! How many people could say that truthfully? And it still wasnt enough. He didnt want kind of friends. Secretly, he wished the others would start opening up more so that they could all be, yknow, real friends, because he certainly wasnt going to go first. That was why he kept himself so distant, more so than they did. Not that it mattered. In the morning, Pickles would feel better, and would have time to cry some other night.


End file.
